No One
by TerraZeal
Summary: Darion Mograine and the events at each battle of Light's Hope, and Tirion claiming the Ashbringer as his own. My interpretation of those events.


_**Author's Note:** My interpretation of that fateful day of Darion vs. Kel'thuzad at Light's Hope, plus Tirion/Darion conversation after the Light of Dawn quest. Some dialogue is taken directly from the comics/quest. I own nothing (not even the female draenei, although she is my toon in game). You can count the Tirion/Darion interaction as slash if you want to. I think they make a good couple, but Tirion/A'dal is my OTP (yes, that IS weird)._

_**No One**_

The Scourge army looked almost impossible to defeat. So many of them. Still, Darion had his trump card. The Ashbringer. The sword was held loosely at his side, ready to strike and any moment. The undead were gathering. The warrior could feel it. He shivered. Was it cold, or fear, that brought about his chill? No, no fear. He had his father's sword. His birthright. The Ashbringer. Darion could, should, be able to cut through swathes of undead as easily as a knife taken to butter.

He glanced again at the ill-gotten blade. He had slain his own brother for it. Corrupt, but still family. Still...redeemable. His father had forgiven Renault, so why couldn't Darion find it in his heart to forgive his corrupted brother? Darion did realize that Renault was NOT, nor would ever be, in league with that vile Arthas Menethil, the Lich King, but the Scarlet Crusade was almost as monstrous and they were almost purely human. There were a few dwarves, but no other races.

Maxwell had told him about the souls here. The thousand, thousand souls beneath this chapel. Holy ground. Perhaps the Light WOULD prevail here today, even with the Scourge army as large as it was. Darion closed his eyes.

His father and brother's cold, dead eyes still in his vision. Alexandros and Renault may have been corrupted, but his father had been redeemed and his brother forgiven. Alexandros was no longer one of the Four Horsemen of Naxxramas and Renault was no longer a Commander in the Scarlet Crusade.

The battle had started while Darion sat there in contemplation. He shook himself and raised the corrupt sword. Corrupt as it was, he could still wield it. Part of that disturbed him. Was it perhaps because of some of his own corruption? It didn't matter.

If they could win this day, then perhaps the Ashbringer could be purified once again. He was in the presence of some of the greatest warriors of the Light! Surely ONE of them could purify the sword. Darion was cutting down undead, several at a time, but it was an almost limitless stream of undead. Abominations, ghouls, banshees, Death Knights...They came and came, unstoppable. A sharp pain pierced Darion's shoulder as one of the ghouls slashed at him.

He swung, cutting the ghoul in half with the Ashbringer. A nearby woman screamed. An abomination was bearing down on her. Blood streaked her pale blonde hair and priestess robes. All her powers were drained. Darion wouldn't make it on time. The woman would die. He turned away from the gruesome sight. He wanted to save them. Save them all. He couldn't. The warrior heard the woman scream, and then hysterical sobs of thanks.

Darion glanced away from his own battle for a second to witness an older man battling the abomination with apparent ease. A familiar old man, in fact. So, he had taken Darion's words to heart then. Be a hero. Tirion. Darion relaxed. They were saved. For some reason, the presence of the pariah of the Silver Hand gave him a renewed sense of victory.

He called out to Tirion, but the old man did not turn to face him. He simply continued to slaughter the Scourge without breaking a sweat. Why, oh why, would the Silver Hand want him out of their ranks? He was, after all, the only one the Lich King had ever feared. So he heard, anyway. Renault had a loose tongue when his death was imminent.

The tide began to turn. Soon, the defenders of the Light began to outnumber the Scourge. Hope swelled within Darion. _We're going to win. I will not disappoint you, father, brother. I will see this horrid thing end here and now! _Screams pierced the air.

Cold, mad laughter echoed through the area. Holy ground or not, this being was not harmed nor intimidated by the presence of the pariah paladin nor Darion, the new wielder of the Ashbringer. Darion turned to look. A gasp caught in his throat.

A lich was floating across the field of battle, bringing death upon his enemies with a mere touch. The lich's mouth was open in a wicked farce of a smile and he was stroking a small cat with one skeletal hand, as though the cat were the most important thing in the world. Darion's heart hammered in his chest. It was Kel'thuzad. It had to be.

He had been defeated before, but he had been revived due to having had a phylactery that was not destroyed. Now, at last, he had come to claim the last of the Mograine family. Darion had to get to Kel'thuzad. Had to defeat him. Avenge his father and brother. Avenge the fallen here at Light's Hope. He struggle through masses of undead, slashing them, shoving them. Kel'thuzad was what mattered now. Nothing and no one else.

The lich laughed. "Darion Mograine...the last of the Mograine family line. Mine at last. You, you were always so apathetic...until what had happened to your family was revealed to you. It was I who made them what they were. I corrupted them. And I intend to do the same to you, foolish little human."

The lich laughed, a high, piercing sound that made Darion's insides ache.

"No. You will not have me. My father is redeemed. My brother forgiven. Everything I do, I do for them." Darion raised Ashbringer. He heard Tirion, the old man, call out, but ignored him and charged the laughing lich.

Kel'thuzad lazily waved a hand and Darion collapsed. Kel'thuzad had been a powerful dark mage before becoming what he was now. Of course it was reasonable to think he still had that power in his warped state. An arcane explosion empowered by Scourge magic.

"You have no chance of stopping me, little boy. None at all. All the lives lost here today, they were for you. I took this chance, attacked Light's Hope, in order to claim you at last." Kel'thuzad slid a bony hand down his cat's back. The thing purred almost maliciously and eyed Darion with what he could only imagine was a cat's sneer.

Darion glared up at the Kel'thuzad. Former human, former mage of the Kirin Tor, and said simply. "No. I love you, Dad." At last, he understood Tirion's words. An act of love greater than the act of evil and his father's soul would be free of the sword. Kel'thuzad would not have him, nor his father. Darion plunged the Ashbringer into his chest, pain making it impossible to breathe. He blacked out.

Darion was gasping as he opened his eyes. Not dead...? No. No! He looked down and saw the sword, his father's sword, still in his chest. A calm crept over him. Yes. This was how it was supposed to be. He served them. The Scourge. He eyed the creature in front of him. The creature that was his true master's right hand. Kel'thuzad.

A cackle escaped the lich. "Our primary goal may have eluded us in the end, but I will be content with you as my prize. The last Mograine has fallen to the Scourge. The Light has no more Ashbringer! We will return here, and next time, we will not fall. The Ashbringer shall not be here. Now...tell me, boy, who do you love?"

The old man standing in the shadows gave an empty sigh and turned from the scene, disappearing into the Chapel.

Darion's dark eyes met the lich's empty sockets. "No one."

Kel'thuzad laughed.

******Some Time Later******

The Lich King's orders were clear. Slaughter all at Light's Hope. Defeat this last bastion of light and hope amongst the living. Darion's forces were winning. When he at last defeated the Argent Dawn and the Silver Hand, he would be honored as one of the Lich King's greatest, most capable lieutenants. Darion's cold, dead lips forced their way into a smile as he saw some of his old "friends" fall beneath the blades of his most loyal Death Knights.

Darion himself was fighting Maxwell Tyrosus himself. The paladin was putting up quite the fight. For some reason, the Ashbringer was not responding as usual. It would sometimes miss a blow, sometimes it would not even strike at all. Darion was furious. What was going on here? It had worked well enough the last time he had been here. He had been alive then, however...was this any different, really? Even undead, he had slain many with his precious blade.

His other strong Death Knights seemed to be having little to no trouble striking true at the warriors of the Light. Koltira and Thassarian stood back to back, slaying everything in their path. Another Death Knight, a young female draenei, was swinging her with zeal and giggling with glee as the Light-infected paladins and priests fell before her.

No, Darion was the only one having trouble. He was supposed to be leading them. He was supposed to be the strongest of them all. The Lich King's most capable Death Knight. Why else put him in charge of such an important operation as uncovering whatever this powerful Light of Dawn was, not mention slaying the most influential priests and paladins alive today?

Blinding light caused Darion to stumble backwards. Maxwell's body lay at the Death Knights feet, so he could not have caused any damage. This wasn't just any light. It was, perhaps, THE Light. The Light engulfed the bodies of the fallen Light warriors.

Through the blinding Light, Darion was only able to just make out the figure of an old man in gleaming golden armor, pure Light emanating from his pauldrons and a similar Light forming what almost looked like a halo or crown above his head. The old man's hands were gleaming. Darion struggled to make it to the old man, to strike at him, but he couldn't move.

Those slain by Darion's army rose, no worse for the wear. The old man in golden armor strode forward and faced Darion. Darion recognized him. The face, the voice...he hadn't changed. Tirion Fordring. No longer a loner hermit, but a great paladin of the Light, just as the Lich King had intimated. Darion slowly knelt in front of the paladin, realizing his defeat. They had lost. All was at an end. No eternal glory for the Scourge now. Koltira and Thassarian flanked his sides, also kneeling before the gleaming paladin.

Tirion's piercing green eyes seemed to bore into the soul Darion thought he'd long given up. "Have you learned nothing, boy? You have become all that your father fought against! Like that coward, Arthas, you allowed yourself to be consumed by the darkness, the hate... feeding upon the misery of those you tortured and killed!"

The Ashbringer was burning Darion's back, as if begging to be free. Tirion gave a bit more of a speech to Darion. Darion gasped as his father appeared before him as a spirit, free of the sword at last. Upon hearing his father's words, witnessing the visions of his past, he felt nothing but shame.

_There will come a day when you will command the Ashbringer, but that day is not today. _No, he never had true command of the Ashbringer, not now, not ever. He gazed at the spirit apathetically. At least, perhaps, he could join his father in death.

A rattling laugh echoed across the battlefield of the Chapel. Darion gasped. The Lich King himself...if he came here himself, what then, was the point of sending so many powerful Death Knights to die? The Lich King could strike down anyone with ease! The Lich King raised Frostmourne. His father's spirit disappeared. Arthas laughed.

"He is mine, now."

Darion felt heat and anger rising in him. Betrayed! They had all been...

"You...betrayed me! You betrayed us all, monster! Face the might of Mograine!" Darion charged blindly at the Lich King, fully expecting no success but hoping to at least injure him enough to allow the Light warriors to make him flee.

The Lich King easily swats him away and turns his attention to Tirion. They engage in a short conversation, during which Darion realizes he and his Death Knights were sent here to die, simply to lure and weaken Tirion, the greatest paladin who ever lived, out of hiding. The only one the mighty Lich King had ever feared.

Arthas waved a hand, sending Tirion to his knees. The paladin was gasping for air. The other Defenders of the Light were knocked back with a powerful spell from Arthas. Still the old man, Tirion, did not fall. Darion closed his eyes. _That day is not today. _

"Tirion!" Darion ripped the Ashbringer from the scabbard and threw in the air to its true master, Tirion Fordring. The paladin caught it easily with one hand. A blinding light lit the area for a moment. Tirion now stood, holding the now-pure Ashbringer aloft and facing the Lich King.

Tirion strikes, knocking the Lich King back. For the first time, Darion could see real fear and pain in the monster's eyes. The Lich King turned tail and fled through a portal to his home in Icecrown Citadel, claiming that their vendetta wasn't over, that he would find Tirion, and next time it wouldn't be on holy ground so the paladin would have no chance. Tirion merely watched the corrupt Arthas leave.

Tirion knelt down to Darion, touching him with Light. Instead of burning him as it would most impure undead, it healed him. Tirion raised his hands, gleaming with Light, and raised all who had fallen there at Light's Hope.

Tirion was making a speech. Darion was still tired from the fight and caught only snippets of it. Argent Dawn and Silver Hand uniting...Argent Crusade...Darion stood feebly.

"Although our kind has no place in your world, we will still fight to bring an end to the Lich King. This I vow, in the name of my father and my brother, we will see him dead! The Knights of Ebon Blade fight with you, paladin!"

Tirion gave Darion a tight smile and put a hand upon his shoulder, gesturing for the others to leave them be for a bit. The paladins and Death Knights bowed to the old man. Tirion steered Darion into the Chapel, where a beam of brilliant Light was awash over the temple. Light he had seen only once before. Before he had died. The Light of Dawn.

Tirion pulled up a seat and gestured for Darion to sit as well. The Death Knight sat stiffly, still uncomfortable in the presence of a paladin so powerful he was capable of claiming and purifying the Ashbringer with a touch. Of course, Tirion _was _the true master of the Ashbringer, regardless of how Darion thought it passed down through his own family. The sword chose the paladin, not Darion.

Darion stared silently at the wall, waiting for the paladin to speak. After several minutes, when Tirion did not so much as breathe (so it seemed, anyway) Darion had finally had it.

"What, paladin? Tell me why you wanted to speak to me in private." Darion's voice had a slight bite of anger to it.

Tirion smiled slightly, his green eyes glimmering with almost-humour.

"To talk. That is all. I do not wish to kill you, Darion. We spoke before. You told me to 'be a hero'. And so I did. So I am. Even if it is not the way I hoped. My son's death...it had a greater impact on me than anything. I returned to society an old man, broken and saddened by the loss of my family, and yet I still had a goal. To put an end to the misery and sadness of others'."

Tirion continued, "I found a calling. The Light called to me. I traveled to Outland, to Shattrath, and spoke to the Naaru. Specifically, a Naaru named A'dal. He told me many things, I learned so much from him. When I returned, I was no longer a pariah accused of betraying my own faction. I was called 'the greatest paladin who ever lived' and heralded as 'the only one the Lich King fears'. Me, someone who had been cast out by the very people who now practically worshiped the ground I walked upon. People can change, and so can their opinions. You may be a Death Knight, but that doesn't mean you still can't find love and happiness."

Tirion put a hand on the Death Knight's shoulder and squeezed gently. Despite the armor, Darion could still feel Tirion's warm hand. It...comforted him. Gave him hope.

"Tirion...thank you. Thank you for...everything. We will end this. Together." Darion hesitantly put his arms on the paladin's glimmering shoulders. The Light emanating from them did not harm him. The paladin's armor was warm beneath Darion's grip.

"Tell me now, Darion, who will you let die? Who will you let fall to Arthas? Who else will fall to his evil?" Tirion was still smiling softly.

Darion closed his eyes and echoed words spoken earlier, and in a much different tone. "No one."

**I know my grammar isn't perfect. R/R. This is just my imagining of this lore.**


End file.
